Fog
by fangirlwithak
Summary: The previous night is a fog and Quatre's slow to wake up, but the memories will come back. With a bit of help. 4x1


AN: Written out of request. One of the first things I'd written in a while, but leaves me a lot of room for add-ons. 4x1. I don't own the characters. Just having fun with them

Duo was trying to kill him.

It was his first thought as consciousness trickled into his senses. The sheets were cool against his skin and a soft thrumming of sated satisfaction drifted through his thighs and his torso. It didn't change the fact that there was an ache.

The previous night was a fog of drinks. Duo had been bartending, though he'd argued it was _Duo's_ bachelor party. He'd gotten a sharp look and a—well, a good response: "Who else was going to do it?" The only other answer was Trowa, and it was Trowa's bachelor party too. Anyway. Trowa's idea of mixing drinks was that you didn't. Quatre wasn't a fan of alcohol, didn't like falling into a fog, but it was Duo and Trowa's bachelor party. Quatre was pretty sure Duo still had somelingering guilt over the fact that their relationship had flourished where Quatre and Trowa's failed.

Quatre sighed and shoved a wistful memory away. Duo and Trowa were good for each other. They were fantastic for each other. There'd always been a gap between Trowa and Quatre that Quatre couldn't close, and trying to close it had made it worse. The sex had been fantastic, but it always ended up the same: a struggle for dominance with neither party willing to back down. And Trowa, who was stronger, didn't back down to his Arabic prince. A smile tugged at the corner of Quatre's lips. Duo wouldn't put up with that. He had a resolve Quatre didn't. There was no doubt that Duo would finish the fights that Quatre'd surrendered, even if it meant walking away, unfulfilled.

The bed dipped underneath him and there was a click from a lighter. Quatre's eyes cracked open as he caught the scent of cigarette smoke. Heero's cheeks hollowed as he sucked at a cigarette, his back against the headboard, hair mussed, and utterly—

"You're naked." Quatre shifted, winced, and slowly sat up. He stretched, testing his muscles.

Heero exhaled smoke lazily. "So are you." He dragged at the cigarette again.

Quatre's eyes drifted towards the cigarette as his mind pieced together a mix of fragments from last night. He leaned forward, gaze intent on the cigarette. Naked, sated, and sore. Things began to connect.

Heero pinned him with his gaze, exhaling. He tensed.

Quatre plucked the cigarette from his hand and inhaled deeply, eyes drifting shut and humming. He let the smoke out, then inhaled again. He shifted to lean against the headboard, mirroring Heero's posture.

"Are you hung over?" Another click from the lighter as Heero surrendered his former cigarette to Quatre and lit a second.

Quatre hummed a negative. "No, though I'm surprised. I think Duo forgot the mixers later in the night."

Heero snorted, and Quatre turned his head in time to watch the smoke drift out of his nostrils. _Like a dragon_. He grinned, inhaling deeply.

"He didn't forget them."

Quatre's grin grew and he shrugged, stretching, reaching over Heero for the ashtray on the bedside table. Heero tensed again as Quatre pressed into him. Quatre shook his head and shot him an impish look. "It's a little late for that, don't you think?" He teasingly grabbed Heero's wrist, bringing Heero's cigarette to his lips and dragging on it before sitting back.

"How much do you remember?" Sharp, cobalt eyes studied Quatre, exhaling his own smoke.

Quatre hummed softly as he sat back to think, flicking ashes into the ashtray. The previous night was a blur of alcohol, but mixed in was a stark memory of wandering palms, fingers, tongues, touching and tasting and growling and coming. "I pounced on you." He put out the butt in the ashtray and turned his head to study Heero. "I think I ripped your shirt off, and then I—" he paused, urging Heero to sit forward. He studied the dark red scratch marks that littered Heero's skin from shoulder blades to the small of his back.

Heero ground out his cigarette into the ashtray. He met Quatre's gaze evenly. "You swore on Sandrock that you'd make me scream, and then you pushed me down and rode my cock."

Quatre tilted his head at him. "Did you?"

A smirk. "No."

Quatre hummed, leaning over Heero to set the ashtray back on the bedside table. He made a point of pressing into him this time, enjoying the feel of skin against his own chest. He grinned when he felt Heero's stomach tighten, then shifted, grasping the headboard on either side of Heero's head. His smile was utterly angelic, and it was interesting to watch Heero's pupils dilate. "Do you want to?"

Heero pressed back, rolling into Quatre and reversing their roles so Quatre was pressed against the headboard. He shifted and straddled his lap, pinning his thighs down. "You already swore on Sandrock." Heero slid his hands down until Quatre's palms were restrained against the bed as well. There was enough strength to keep him from wiggling free, but not enough that Quatre couldn't get away if he really wanted to. "And I don't remember any screaming." He rolled his hips against Quatre, his smirk growing.

Quatre looked up to him. He growled softly in pleasure and tried to roll his hips back. "I'm not done." He twisted his hands and grasped Heero's wrists, pushing forward until Heero fell back against the bed. He pushed down on top of him, pinning his hips to the bed with his own, and trapping his wrists by his head. He thrust against him softly, grinning at the moan that Heero couldn't quite bite back. He repeated the movement, this time moaning himself. "I don't normally bottom," he admitted. His voice was breathy and he ground their hips together.

Heero arched up, presenting the perfect opportunity. Quatre lowered his head and bit his neck, sucking at the captured skin. He could feel the moan in Heero's throat and growled in pleasure.

"I don't normally top," Heero admitted. Quatre was pleased to note that his voice was breathy too.

Quatre released his wrists and dragged his nails down Heero's chest. The man beneath him arched up harshly into them, and Quatre grinned. He had Sandrock's honor to upkeep and a night of half-forgotten memories to remember.


End file.
